Leave It To Us
by ThatSassyCaptain
Summary: The Enterprise is on a less than routine mission in a dangerous portion of space. Sandwiched between Tholian Space and the Klingon Empire, the Enterprise is attacked by an unknown vessel which leaves them nearly dead in the water. With disaster upon them, Nurse Chapel and Lieutenant Uhura find it up the themselves to figure things out and figure them quick.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm going to try my hand at another long story. This one is going to focus on the combined abilities of everyone's favorite Head Nurse and Communications Officer. As I'm back at school now, I'm expecting updates to be pretty spread out, but I will do my best to stick to one chapter a week, 10-15 days between chapters at maximum (barring some sort of really unfortunate accident). I hope you enjoy reading it!**

The USS _Enterprise_ kept its course. They were shooting the gap between Klingon and Tholian space, a potentially dangerous maneuver, but a necessary one. Starfleet had ordered the flagship out to Starbase 38, a research station close to the edge of explored space. Starbase 38 was nearly the Federation's 'Welcome Center'. Many called it 'Gateway' or 'Mile One', as it stood on the edge of everything they had mapped with certainty. Indeed, it was the 'Gateway' into the unknown. It was the last regular Starbase on the Federation's charts in that direction, and likely the first to be encountered by any wayward species moving inward from the Beta Quadrant. This was precisely what Starfleet wanted. Starbase 38 served as both an exploratory waypoint and a potential welcome committee. Any exploratory beings would be able to meet this shining example of Federation hospitality first thing. Many of the fleet's finest had their own opinions about the practicality of the base, but that had little sway with the politicians. No, the sensibly armed yet 'peaceful' base was here to stay.

That's where the _Enterprise_ was headed with prominent researcher Tillmann Gehrke. Doctor Gehrke was a German-born xenolinguist with a passion for diplomacy. Any cadet remotely interested in a Communications position swallowed his papers such as 'The Importance of Inflections in Any Multi-Lingual Discussion' and the like whole. In addition to literary achievement, Gehrke also had a reputation as a stellar lecturer. Both his knowledge and experience were deemed 'invaluable' by Starfleet and, at his request, had granted him permission to settle down at Starbase 38. Gehrke would continue his much-coveted research in addition to his new responsibilities on the welcome committee.

Both Doctor Gehrke and his assistant, Ensign Domanova, were present on the Bridge when Ensign Chekov reported their progress.

"We are approximately four hours from our destination, Keptin."

Captain Kirk shifted his weight in the chair. As monotonous as this trip had been so far, a certain wariness had come from passing so close to both Klingon and Tholian space. He knew the likelihood of an attack was slim to none. Still, they'd run into worse scrapes with even further distance. Either way, they were proceeding at warp 8. If anything did attack them, it would have a heck of a time keeping up.

"Thank you, Mister Chekov. Mister Sulu," He turned to the helm, glancing back at the view screen. "Anything to report?"

Sulu began to shake his head out of habit before correcting himself and responding verbally. "No sir. She's handling just fine."

Kirk nodded more to himself than anyone else. "Good work. Keep it up." He swiveled in his chair. Spock was nose deep in his scanners. Ever vigilant, the _Enterprise_ would have to keep a close eye on their surroundings. One misstep could land them in hot water with either the Klingons or the Tholians. _It's good that Spock is keeping watch,_ Kirk thought as he shot a glance back at the view screen, _Who knows what kind of trouble we could run into out here? Well, I suppose it's a good thing we have Doctor Gehrke onboard. If anyone can talk us out of an interplanetary war, it's him. _

A quiet laugh drew his attention. He looked over to see the linguist in an animated conversation with his Communications Officer. Lieutenant Uhura was in the middle of a Swahili joke, which Doctor Gehrke apparently appreciated. He chuckled again, responding in German. Kirk couldn't help but smile. Doctor Gehrke was a likable character- he even got along with Doctor McCoy- which, Kirk supposed, aided his efforts as a diplomat and lecturer. Gehrke had made many friends amongst the crew. This had surprised Kirk, given the typical nature of Federation diplomats. Usually, the _Enterprise_ hosted an array of supercilious ambassadors, most of whom loathed the entire process. There would be complaints from passengers and crewmen alike. Kirk would have to remind his people _not_ to engage the guests in combat.

Gehrke was different. He lunched in the mess hall with the crew, instead of demanding private meals and banquets with the officers. The linguist discussed everything from politics to pastimes, always listening to and engaging his audiences. There was nary a quiet meal, and everyone seemed to enjoy it.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped. Uhura had one hand held up, the other pressed to her earpiece. She listened for a moment, before turning to Kirk.

"Captain, we're being hailed. The USS _Sophia_. Their captain is asking for you, sir."

Kirk nodded, turning to Spock. "Do you know the _Sophia_, Spock? The name seems familiar, but I'm having trouble placing her…"

Spock looked up from his work. "The USS _Sophia_, NCC 2010-7, is a _Sydney-_Class transport vessel, under the command of Captain Suriee Lauriston. The _Sophia_ has just entered scanner range. I was about to report their presence when Lieutenant Uhura received the transmission. It seems as though they have been expecting us."

"Ah, Lauriston! She was the helmsman on the _Republic_ while I was with them. I wonder what the _Sophia _is doing all the way out here?" He grinned at Spock, who simply stared back at him. "Anyways, I'm sure Lauriston will tell us. Put her on, Lieutenant!"

Uhura's 'yes, Captain' echoed across the quiet Bridge. Kirk returned his attention to the view screen, eagerly awaiting the transmission. Spock returned to his work on the scanners.

In a moment, the stars had disappeared. Flickering in their place was the Bridge of the _Sophia_, Captain Lauriston at the conn. She smiled as her own view screen came to life.

"Kirk. How've you been?"

Kirk grinned. He hadn't seen Lauriston since he'd transferred off the _Republic _to return to Starfleet Academy. She looked essentially the same as before, only this time she had the stripes of a Captain instead of an Ensign. Several fond memories of the _Republic_ came back to him then. Most of the time, he could only recall Ben Finney and the Court Martial. Yet, he had enjoyed much of his time on the ship. He remembered an eventful day in the rec room where all of the Command Ensigns had pitted themselves against Sciences in a rough game of dodge ball. Back when he was merely 'a stack of books with legs', contests like these were more challenging than he would find them now. His mental recollection of that game included many hard hits and a good few blocks on his behalf from Lauriston.

"I'm doing pretty well, Lauriston. How's command been treating you? You haven't changed a bit since the _Republic._"

The other captain laughed. "That's a pretty good joke. I'm surprised I haven't gone grey from all the close scrapes we've had in this sector alone."

Kirk's eyebrows rose. "You're stationed all the way out here?"

"Not exactly." Lauriston clarified. "The _Sophia's _officially stationed out of Starbase 67 as a transport vessel for these in-between trips. We're taking the Gateway's CMO all the way back home for maternity leave. The Admiralty's also approved shore leave for all of us Sophies. I'd say the crew's pretty excited."

Several of Lauriston's Bridge personnel fought to hide their grins. From what Kirk could tell, they were all giddy. _What crew wouldn't be, stationed at the edge of Federation Space with the Klingons on the left, and the Tholians on the right? Not to mention a whole host of other dangers. _

"Congrats, Suriee. Sounds like you all deserve some time off. So, you just came from Starbase 38? How's the weather over there?"

It was well known amongst starship Captains that Starbase Commanders were another breed and often had territory issues. It was almost common practice to warn incoming ships about the local climate. Having some idea of a Starbase CO's temperament could mean a world of difference in their relations.

Lauriston pushed down a grimace. "Well, we didn't hit it off, Jim, but Commodore Corbett seemed like he could be a decent guy. He runs a tight station, hyper-vigilant when it comes to protocol, especially concerning incoming vessels. You'll want to have all your ducks in a row for this one."

Kirk nodded slowly, considering things. _So, this Corbett is a stickler for protocol. I'd better let everyone know, and soon. Better still if we can organize all possible 'landing parties' accordingly. Get any group of people straightened out before we even arrive. _

"I'll keep that in mind. Well, Suriee, I'd hate to keep you and yours from that leave. I'll let you and the Sophies get along."

Lauriston gave him a mock salute. "Thanks, Jim. I'll see you when I see you. Lauriston out."

The view screen went dark. The stars reappeared, and for a moment the Bridge crew could see the little _Sydney-_class floating out in space. Then, the _Sophie_ disappeared in a streak of light.

"She's making warp four, Captain." Sulu commented from the helm. "I'd say that's a pretty good takeoff speed for a vessel of that type."

Kirk smiled. "Lauriston will push her engines, if I know her like I used to. She was always itching to gun it on the _Republic._ Never got the chance. I bet she has her helm pull back as soon as they're out of scanner range. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if the _Sophie _could do warp six in a pinch. She'd be close to bursting, but in a pinch…"

He trailed off, thinking of Lauriston and the _Republic._ Kirk remembered the other captain's words. _Get our ducks in a row, eh? Well, now's the time to do it. I'll make sure Gehrke's security detail is assigned, as well as everyone with research to drop off. _In addition to chauffeuring the linguist, the _Enterprise_ was delivering some biomedical research results to the science officers on the Starbase. One Lieutenant Commander Linois was doing a study on various chemical components found in this region of space. Kirk didn't really have a clue about it, but Spock had assured him that this study was 'most fascinating'.

Either way, he had some business to attend to. "Mister Sulu, take the conn. Spock, with me. We've got to get some paperwork done before we reach Starbase 38." He rose, beckoning for Spock to follow. They proceeded to the turbolift.

"Deck Six." He turned to his First Officer. "Once we get an idea of the scope of our landing crews, can you contact your researchers and determine who we'll need to send down and with what?"

"Affirmative, Captain. I have already begun to categorize the necessary personnel for our needs. Might I suggest that we hold a conference with these individuals before our arrival."

"That's a pretty good idea, Spock. Once we get down there, we'll have everyone assemble. Shouldn't be too much trouble."

"I agree, Captain."

They arrived on Deck Six. There was a little foot traffic as they made their way to the conference room, but nothing too much. Crewmen nodded at the pair as they passed, some on their way to their quarters, some just now going to their stations. Kirk remembered that, yes it was around the time for shifts to change. _Good. _He realized. _Everyone who's likely to be leaving later on will be awake and alert. This should be a productive meeting._

He and Spock arrived in the conference room. Empty as it was, there was still that feeling of business completed. Kirk could think of countless meetings held here in both calm and crisis. Department Heads, diplomats, ambassadors, all kinds had gathered here to discuss what was what. This was where they came to make decisions. Right now, it was a matter of protocol.

"Spock…" Kirk began, taking a seat. "Which of your researchers did you have in mind for this assignment? I was thinking Flores, Bozian, and Delgado to deliver the reports to Starbase 38's science officers."

Spock considered his Captain's words. "I agree that Flores and Delgado are excellent choices for the task at hand. Bozian, though a competent researchers, primarily specializes in biology, not chemistry. Perhaps _Buolos_ would make a more logical choice…?"

Kirk smacked the table with his palm. "Buolos! You're right, Spock. I had the two mixed up. Now why did…" He snapped in realization. "They were both on the team when we visited the research lab on Para V. That's it."

"You recall correctly, Captain. Shall I assemble the researchers?"

Kirk shook his head. "Not yet, Spock. We still need to select the security detail. If Corbett's anything like what Lauriston said- she didn't say much, but I think I read some of her cues- he's probably one for ceremony too. The more distinguished the guest or the occasion, the more 'effort' he'll expect us to put into it. I'd suggest we put Chief Giotto on it, for sure. I'd say Freeman too- his record will look good to Corbett, given his time as CSO. And Meriwether. She's next in line for Chief. Normally, I'd say no to sending all three down at once… Actually, never mind on Freeman. We need somebody holding down the fort, especially in this part of space."

Spock took note of the change. He had been recording information on his PADD for some time now. "I agree with you logic, Captain. It would be wise to leave the ship well guarded and alert for any danger. Although our departure will be brief, there is no reason to believe that everything will proceed in an orderly fashion."

"Or a predictable one." Kirk added, resting his elbows on the table. True, the Tholians didn't wander out of their space often. For that at least, Kirk was grateful. However, they'd encountered wayward Klingons in just about every single sector they'd explored, expectedly or not. And now, they were practically warping through the Klingons' backyard. It would be ridiculous to leave the ship unguarded for a second, regardless of how safe the Starbase's track record was.

"All right." He continued after a moment. "So we have Giotto down, and Meriwether. Who else? I think a compliment of at least four would give off the right message. Lauriston's hardly a cool customer, that's not quite her style. If that rubbed Corbett the wrong way, then we'll have to be the soul of order. What do you say, Spock?"

Spock finished recording the last snippet of data. "It would be prudent to conform with Commodore Corbett's style of management, regardless of our own methods. If we wish to conduct our assignment as efficiently and smoothly as possible, I would recommend sending Lieutenant Zajimovic along with the security detail, as well as Lieutenant Valero. Both are distinguished officers with records as impeccable as that of Lieutenant Meriwether."

"I like the way you think. Tack on Ensign Raschke as well for an even five."

Spock eyed him for a moment, weighing the decision whether to point out that five was indeed _not_ an even number. Logic dictated, and so it was done.

"Captain. Mathematical principle states that five is not an even number, as it is not perfectly divisible by two. Might I inquire as to why you would refer, illogically, to five as even?"

Kirk chuckled. "Aesthetically, Spock, it will look well-rounded to have five on hand. Just a hunch, more than anything, although I can see why 'even five' would be considered highly illogical. No, it's more a matter of perspective, I think. In my experience with fleet Commodores, I feel like I've got Corbett about figured out. He's welcoming a distinguished linguist and the flagship as part of a direct order from the Admiralty. He'll do whatever it is he thinks will put out the image of a crack Starbase, a well-oiled machine of protocol and polished excellence. That includes holding everyone else to higher-than-reasonable standards. If that's his game, then we'll just have to play if we want a smooth time of it."

"I see. We are to fulfill these unspoken expectations of the Commodore's, with only an indirect warning to guide us. Fascinating."

"What's fascinating, exactly, Spock?" Kirk paused, his hand hovering just over the comm in preparation to summon his new teams.

"Human behavior in general, Captain. Specific to this circumstance: the codes of conduct that humans hold each other to, especially within their own circles. This dynamic likely evolved of your species' bureaucratic dabbles, and would make a most interesting study."

"I never thought of it like that, Spock. True, we do have our own social codes, as do most species, but the way you put it earlier strikes a funny note."

Spock picked his PADD up to make another note. "What precisely are you referring to?"

"Well, y-" At that moment, the ship lurched. Kirk gripped the table to steady himself. In an instant the klaxon was blaring. Red Alert. Kirk lunged for the comm again.

"Bridge, report! What's going on up there?"

The _Enterprise_ shuddered again before Sulu could respond.

"_They came out of nowhere, sir! An unidentified vessel, bearing one point-"_

A crash and a scream cut off Sulu's words.

"Sulu! Answer me! What's happening?" The icy hand of fear gripped his heart. What had happened to Sulu? He was helpless, listening in on a battle that he wasn't a part of. _Yet._

"_I'm fine, sir, but Doctor Gehrke has sustained an injury. Lieutenant Uhura, can you_-"

"No, Sulu, keep her trying to hail that other ship. I'll call Bones myself. Kirk out."

He signed off and pressed a different button.

"McCoy! Get to the Bridge, now! We've got casualties. Sulu's up there and Spock and I are on our way."

There was a huff and a sigh from the other end.

"_Fine, Jim, fine! I'm on my way."_

McCoy ended the call without another word. _Just as well,_ Kirk thought. Aloud, he summoned Spock.

"We don't have time to waste. Grab that PADD and let's move!"

Together, the raced to the turbolift. McCoy was inside, waiting impatiently. Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, the Doctor seemed more surly than usual.

"Y'all couldn't've just waited 'til I was already on the Bridge! Well, hurry up! I've got a patient. Time's a' wastin'!"

Kirk grabbed the turbolift handle. "Bridge" Was his only comment. McCoy proceeded to ignore them both for the duration of the trip. The lift stopped. When the doors opened, the three men were met with unparalleled chaos. Sulu was still in the captain's chair, but it looked like he would willingly vacate. Sparks were flying from three consoles, Chekov was picking himself up off the floor, and McCoy found his first patient.

Ensign Domanova was on his knees, bending over the still form of Doctor Gehrke. From the looks of things, a section of the Communications console had blown, leaving him to collect the shrapnel. McCoy shoved Spock out of his path. He was at Gehrke's side at once, already running his tricorder over the linguist.

Kirk relieved Sulu. The Helmsman bounded over to resume his post. Spock crossed the distance to his station, only to find it one of the casualties of battle.

"Any idea who's firing on us?"

"None yet, sir. They didn't hail us." Sulu replied, trying desperately to guide the _Enterprise _into a more defensible position.

"Uhura! Anything on hailing frequencies? Any frequencies?"

Uhura, looking disheveled but unharmed by her charred console, shook her head. "Nothing I can make out. I'm running the Universal Translator through all frequencies just in case."

"The Translator?" The view screen, still agonizingly empty, consumed Kirk's attention. "What for?"

Sulu took this one up. "It's unlike any other ship I've ever seen. Not Klingon, not Tholian. Completely unfamiliar."

"Good, then, keep doing it, Lieutenant. Chekov, are we picking anything up on the scanners?"

Chekov had reclaimed his seat and was now punching buttons furiously.

"Aye, sir, although what it is, I cannot say. Logging the readings now…"

The ship shuddered. Kirk slammed his fist onto the armrest before rethinking. He comm'd Engineering.

"Scotty! What are our options? How are the shields?"

He could hear the grinding of metal on the other end of the line. _Scotty's having a rough time of it too. This doesn't look good…_

"We have phasers online, sir! As far as shields go…"

There was a crackle and the line went dead.

"Scotty? Scotty! Answer me! Uhura," He snapped, "What happened?"

The Lieutenant was mashing buttons with a ferocity that rivaled Chekov's. "I don't know sir. The line just went dead. In fact, sir… I think I've lost all power to my console."

Kirk growled, a rare sound even on the Bridge. He was downright furious. There was no way he'd tolerate this. If anyone needed another indicator of their Captain's mood, this was it. "Will somebody get me some answers? We can't even see them! Sulu, bring us around! I want a visual, now!"

Sulu did his best, but the helm was responding sluggishly. Suddenly, it was there- a ship unlike any they'd ever seen. Almost entirely circular, the main section of the ship sat between two-thirds of an arc that wrapped around the sides and back of the sphere, suspending it. Electricity shot out from the inside edges of the arc, striking the sphere and various points. The whole thing glowed.

"Chekov, scan it. I want to know everything."

Something blinked on the hull of the other ship. An object hurtled into clarity faster than they could think. The _Enterprise_ rocked. The lights died, plunging the Bridge into darkness. Emergency lights powered on, but soon those began to flicker as well. Before they would lose gravity, Kirk gave an order.

"Sulu! Fire phasers _now!_"

The helmsman punched it.

"Direct hit, sir!"

The sphere shook under the impact. Several of the electrical strikes ceased altogether. It was the enemy's turn to brace for impact. It was gratifying, but unexpected. Whatever power they could spare for the phasers wouldn't cause the enemy ship to rock about like that. _Unless it's a much smaller, less protected class of ship than one would expect to have that kind of firepower._ Kirk decided to save his musings for later. The spherical ship appeared to be retreating.

"Don't pursue, Sulu," He ordered, "I don't know if we can."

The ship was vibrating lightly and the lights were still out. Only the red alert and emergency lights were still in operation. Kirk supposed he must be thankful for that. _At least we have some power. I don't know what they hit, but at least we can limp to 38 on impulse. If nothing else, then Lauriston isn't so far away. We still have the shuttles, too, if worse comes to worse._

"Jim."

It was McCoy. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about the doctor and patient as soon as he'd sat in the chair. When they were at full battle stations firing upon the enemy, he was all in. Kirk vacated his chair to tend to his guest.

"What's the situation, McCoy?"

The Doctor was sitting on his heels, holding a tricorder. Domanova was at his side, looking up anxiously.

"It's not good, Jim, I can say that much. There's not much light in here, but Gehrke's got some arterial damage. His neck's been just about shredded on one side, too. Gotta get him to Sickbay right away. Can you spare Uhura? I don't speak German."

Kirk wondered at the request, but soon heard the murmuring. Gehrke was incoherent but could at any moment provide something useful. Unfortunately, at this point it was in his native tongue.

"Go. Uhura, you're with McCoy. Spock, see if you can get Scotty back on. I want to know what's happening to my ship!"

McCoy and Domanova carried Doctor Gehrke to the turbolift followed closely by Lieutenant Uhura. Kirk sat back in his chair, considering his upcoming ship wide announcement. He'd get a status report soon enough, internal communications online or not. Chekov would have those scans analyzed and in his lap in a matter of minutes, provided everything stayed in one piece. One way or another, he'd get his answers. Then, he could prepare for when they next met this mysterious ship. _Yes,_ Kirk could feel it in his gut, _yes we will meet again._

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd like to hear what you think, what you liked, and anything you noticed that didn't work! I love to hear from y'all.  
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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Getting off to a good start! I'm down with the flu for the next couple of days, so I'll be able to get some writing done.  
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**Enjoy!**

Kirk put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. They'd dodged total disaster by a hair. As far as anyone could tell, since no diagnostics could be run at this time, there was something wrong with the power. Kirk resisted the urge to giggle hysterically. _Of course there's something wrong with the power! Of course there is! This is a starship full of professionals, for goodness sakes, and we don't know much more than 'power's out'._ He took a deep breath through his nose. Letting it out slowly, he sat back up.

The Bridge was still a mess. Three consoles in total had exploded beyond use. Right away, teams from Engineering had appeared to assess and repair the damage. A passing Ensign had reported that, yes, everything was awful in Engineering, but no more awful than anywhere else. Apparently, the main issue was with communications. The turbolifts worked, the gravity was online, but no communications. Of all the problems they could have, Kirk hated this one most of all. Sure, things could be exploding on the other side of the ship, but they wouldn't know until somebody came running up the Bridge to tell about it.

He watched as his crew began tidying up. He'd already sent two more down to Sickbay. There were probably people crowding in as he sat there, but he wouldn't know how many until McCoy sent a runner.

Spock appeared at his side. The First officer's console had been destroyed before they had both arrived on the scene, so he was unhurt.

"Spock, what happened?" Kirk asked with some bitterness.

"I do not know, Captain. However, we shall soon have more information. Mister Chekov completed a level two scan before the enemy ship retreated. This should give us plenty of information about the ship, its crew, and their capabilities."

"Good to know, Spock, good to know. Do we have anyone up here who can run?"

"Captain?"

It was dark, but Kirk knew the eyebrow had gone up. "We need a runner, Spock, to carry information. I'd like to know several things. First of all: what's happening in Engineering. Secondly, I'd like a casualty report. We need somebody to run and find out all of these things while communications are still down."

"I see. If you would like, as I am currently without a proper station, I could perform this duty."

Kirk was incredulous at first, but he turned to look Spock in the eye. _He's serious._

"All right, Spock. You're it. Get me some reports."

"Yes, Captain. I will return shortly." Spock took off toward the turbolift at a fair pace. Kirk bit his lip. _Spock is going… He's taking this seriously. He is going to run. He's going to run everywhere._ The idea struck him as both hysterical and strangely obvious. _Of course he's going to run. It's only logical._

The turbolift doors whooshed shut. Kirk supposed this new development was exactly what he needed. He swiveled back around. Sulu was at his console, trying to make sense of the dim readings.

"Anything, Sulu?"

The Helmsman turned, a grim expression on his face. "Shields are at 26 percent and holding, sir. Other than that…" He raised his hands in a frustrated gesture. "We don't have much power for the phasers- most of it is being routed to life support. Mister Scott has been channeling power to the necessary systems, though."

"Really? Has someone been up here already?"

"No sir," Sulu clarified, "I've been monitoring power outputs across the ship. The weapons systems have been all but drained. Most of the power is being pumped into life support, or straight to Deck Seven. I figure that's where it's needed most, anyhow."

Kirk nodded, forgetting the gloom for a moment. "Yes. You're right, Sulu. That's some pretty quick thinking on Scotty's part." _It really is_, Kirk reflected, _Without communications, who knows what is happening anywhere? I'd do the same if I wasn't sure about conditions ship wide. First, pump power into life support, then make sure Sickbay has everything it needs. That's where the people are going, for certain._

His thoughts returned to McCoy and Doctor Gehrke. The linguist's diagnosis hadn't sounded good, but McCoy hadn't given up yet. If anything, the Doctor was probably in surgery right now, doing everything in his power to save his patient.

True to Kirk's expectations, McCoy was doing _everything._ This included shouting.

_"Nurse Chapel!"_ He was too busy holding down a convulsing linguist to go fetch her himself. Uhura was standing slightly behind him, her eyes wide. Ensign Domanova, Gehrke's burly assistant, was doing his level best not to be sick. But, McCoy was grateful for his help as far as keeping Gehrke still went. Domanova could hold his own.

Chapel rushed to his side with the correct prescription. She jabbed the hypo into Gehrke's arm, pulling back so McCoy could go for round two.

"Chapel, get me the dermal regenerator, a fresh batch of painkillers, and a local coagulant on the double!"

The Nurse took off running once more. McCoy got to work with what he could in the meantime.

"Take a step back, Domanova, before you faint. Uhura, listen close. See if he says anything. I'm going to try and work on this shrapnel in his side while I'm waiting."

Before he could get started, Chapel returned with his supplies. _That was fast. _She was looking frazzled, but that seemed to be the norm here-and-now. The entire Sickbay buzzed. It was truly and 'all hands on deck' situation. The wounded were coming in from just about every deck, off-duty and on. He knew Chapel had concerns beyond his beck and call. She told him so, too, before she left.

"This one's yours, Len, I've got a broken femur and two concussions on my own plate."

He grunted in affirmation and went straight back to it. They all had work to do. First things first, he'd have to take care of Gehrke's neck. McCoy snatched back his tricorder and scanned for shrapnel. None to be found, lucky thing. He'd have to start by stopping the bleeding. Grabbing a strip of sterile artificial tissue from the tub on the side table, McCoy pressed it into the side of Gehrke's neck at the cut. He grabbed the dermal regenerator with his free hand and tuned the setting with his thumb. Narrow beam on, McCoy leaned in to begin repairs on the artery. The beam passed over the artificial tissue and began sealing the wounded area with new skin. McCoy kept this up until the artery was out of danger. He stepped back, readjusted the regenerator, and flagged down an approaching nurse.

"Here. Run this for me. Quickly! I've got shrapnel to attend to." The Nurse nodded and got to work without question.

McCoy moved around to Gehrke's other side. With a flick of a scalpel, the linguist's shirt split open to reveal the oozing wounds. From the looks of things, Gehrke had taken the brunt of the explosion. He had shrapnel stuck in him from his collarbone to his hip. McCoy gestured for Domanova to take another step back. He nabbed a mask and a pair of gloves from the side table and put them on. _No good in getting' anything into these wounds. I've been exposed to a lot more than Gehrke has, what with workin' in space for so long. Best not leave anything to chance._

He began working out each piece of shrapnel. Snapping his fingers, he got Uhura to man the tricorder, searching for any miniscule piece the naked eye might miss. So far so good. McCoy was busy extracting a twisted sliver of metal when he discovered something: In addition to each of the lacerations, there was another type of damage in the wounds. Wherever there was shrapnel, he found, there were also burns. The console had exploded with enough heat for the little bits of metal to cauterize many of the cuts. Those not hot enough to burn were still nasty, just the same. McCoy had a whole host of problems on his hands.

"Done, Doctor McCoy." The Nurse with the dermal regenerator got his attention. "That's as much as can be done right now. There's too much stress on his system to continue this portion."

McCoy nodded his thanks and was about to send her on her way when he reconsidered.

'Nurse, what kinds of casualties do we have?"

"Well so far, it's mostly minor things. We're trying to find M'Benga for a surgery. Commander Scott's got lung damage from th-"

_Lung damage? Scotty? _"Forget that, I'm on it. Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?"

The Nurse pursed her lips, but hurried on. "I came to tell you, sir. You shoved a dermal regenerator into my hands."

McCoy let out a frustrated groan. "All right, _fine!_ I'm going to prep for surgery. M'Benga's not here yet, so we can't waste time waiting around for him. Uhura, get her up to date on Gehrke's condition. Tell her if he says _anything_ relevant. Domanova, you keep a good two steps back unless the Nurse tells you otherwise. In that case, you do exactly as she says. Am I clear?"

Domanova nodded furiously. McCoy scowled and turned on his heel. He made straight for the operating suite where he could already see a team forming. Chapel was there, as were several of her usual accomplices.

"Morris! What's the status?" McCoy grabbed a fresh mask and gloves from a nearby container. He pushed his way to Scott's bedside to get a look for himself. Scotty was looking pale already. _This is bad… _

Morris responded with alacrity. "Punctured lung, sir. Caught something in the initial blast. The Lieutenant that delivered him said he kept working despite it, and then collapsed."

"Blast it, _blast it, Scotty!_" He howled. "You know better! You _know_!" McCoy sucked in a breath. Shouting at his patient wasn't going to help, as much as he wanted it to. _Usually, they're conscious when I work 'em over real good. Too bad none of these pig-headed workaholics listen to me. _McCoy realized that he was getting worked up. This would get him nowhere. He had a job to do. "Chapel," He returned to the problem at hand, "What've we given him already?"

Nurse Chapel, similarly garbed in operating gear, answered him. "We've given him a general painkiller and Triox. You can see the mask hook-up for yourself. The good lung can still process oxygen, but the injured one's taking on blood and fluid. We've got our work cut out for us."

"All right." McCoy addressed his team. "First things first, we take out the shrapnel. I need tricorder readings. How big and how deep. Let's get moving, people."

Across Sickbay, the _Enterprise's _runner emerged into chaos. The moderately injured were walking, sitting, and standing in any available space. Nurses rushed back and forth with intent. Every biobed was full, and those being cleared were quickly filled. Spock managed to flag down a nurse.

"Nurse Page. I have come for a report. Where can I find Doctor McCoy, if he is not otherwise engaged?"

Page decided that she needed to keep going. She motioned for Spock to follow- walk and talk. "McCoy is otherwise engaged. He's in surgery right now, operating on Commander Scott- punctured lung. As far as updates go, I think I'm qualified for that one. We're deep in it, sir. Waist deep. All I can say is, we're thankful that the lights haven't shut off just yet. There are two surgeries in progress: one major, one past danger. Other than that, we have thirty-six assorted casualties in total since the time of the attack. We're operating with all hands, but we could use help. Not everyone's back on duty. If you could scare us up some more people, that would be great. We've got our hands full. How's that for a report?"

Spock had followed Nurse Page from one end of Sickbay to the other, taking in the scene as he did so. "That is satisfactory." He addressed the nurse. "I will attempt to locate more Medical personnel, although I do not see the logic in frightening them." He took his leave from Page and proceeded to the exit.

Logic told him that if the crewmen weren't on duty, then they would be in their quarters. With communications out, no one would be able to receive orders. Spock decided it would benefit them most if he carried the word personally. He would concentrate on Deck six to begin with, then proceed to Deck Twelve if sufficient personnel could not be located.

The turbolifts were being used by mostly Operations at this point. The traffic flow consisted of repair crews and localized runners from other departments. Spock caught the next lift and rode it up to Deck Six. He knew at least two nurses and Doctor M'Benga could be located here, provided that they were in their quarters. The emergency lighting barely lit the corridor, but Spock had no trouble finding his way.

The first door was completely without power. He could hear pounding on the other side. _Obviously, Nurse Henderson wishes to return to duty. _

"Please step back from the door, Nurse. I will have it open in a moment." Spock heard the shuffling footsteps and proceeded with his plan. The door was without power, not locked, so it was a simple matter of getting it to slide. He scanned the area for a thin implement to wedge the door open with. Finding none, Spock considered a more violent approach, when he realized an alternate solution.

"If you will wait one moment, Nurse. I will return shortly." He returned to the turbolift. Spock waited for the next stop. The doors swooshed open to reveal, as he had expected, a team from Engineering on their way to make repairs. He scanned each crewman in the lift. Spotting one ensign with a toolbox, he reached forward, selected a crowbar, and departed with a "pardon me, Ensign". It was back to Henderson's room again.

Once he had pushed the doors apart with the crowbar, Spock was able to pry the rest open with his hands. Nurse Henderson was standing on the other side, hair disheveled, but otherwise unharmed.

"Are you fit for duty, Nurse?"

Henderson nodded, stepped through the open doorway, and murmured a 'thank you' to Spock before running to the turbolift. Spock, in turn, ran to the next door.

Nurse Thackery was not in his quarters. Spock found him next door, tending to a wounded ensign from the repair team.

"Ah. Mister Spock, sir." Thackery greeted the First Officer, and then continued with his patient.

"What seems to be the problem, Nurse?"

Thackery tied off a bandage on the Ensign's leg and looked back up. "Just a little burn. Her supervisor sent her here from the impulse engines. Messy business over there."

Spock nodded. "When you are finished, Nurse, you are needed in Sickbay."

Thackery looked surprised, but not for the reason Spock had expected. "They sent you down here for that?" He asked, incredulously.

"On the contrary, Nurse, I am here as a part of my temporary posting as a 'runner'. The Captain gave me this assignment to facilitate communication with the Bridge."

Thackery looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Once he had finished with the Ensign, he too ran for the turbolift.

Spock's last stop on this deck was Doctor M'Benga's quarters. He reached the room approximately two thirds of the way down the corridor. Spock pressed the chime. Nothing. He tried again, this time adding "Doctor M'Benga, are you there?" No response. As the door did not appear to be powered down, Spock used his override code to gain access. It was almost totally dark inside. Doctor M'Benga did not seem to be home.

Spock was about to leave for Deck Twelve when he heard something. There was a small shuffling noise emanating from the side of the room. Cautiously, Spock approached. As he became accustomed to the darkness, he could see shapes more clearly. He spotted something- an outline- next to the bed.

"Doctor M'Benga?"

A groan. Spock dropped to the doctor's side, for a moment unsure how to proceed. He located the doctor's arm and tried to assess M'Benga's position. The surgeon had fallen awkwardly between the side of the bed and the wall. Spock considered his options. He had sent Thackery and Henderson away, so there were no medical personnel on this deck, and Sickbay could not afford to send anyone. _It is likely that there will not be crewmen to spare. I shall have to handle this situation myself. _Deciding on the most logical course, Spock worked to move M'Benga into the open. He grabbed M'Benga's ankles and pulled.

Fortunately for Spock, the movement was enough to wake the doctor. He groaned again, moving slightly but on his own power.

"What… Lights, 80 percent. Lights… Is the power out? Who's there?"

"It is only I, Spock, Doctor. Are you able to determine the extent of your injuries?"

M'Benga sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "I don't think I'm very much injured, Mister Spock. I remember coming off duty, going to sleep, and now, waking up on the floor. What happened? Why is the power out?"

Spock endeavored to explain the situation in a calm and logical manner. When he reached the part about the severe understaffing in Sickbay, M'Benga reacted in a decidedly agitated manner.

"I have to get down there right away." He stood, leaning on a chair for support.

"Do you require assistance, Doctor?"

M'Benga considered. "I don't think so, but if it's all the same to you, I'd like to make sure I at least made it to Sickbay this time."

Spock nodded but refrained from comment. M'Benga was able to walk to the turbolift, proceed to Sickbay, and check in with Nurse Page without incident. Spock was somewhat pleased to find the main rooms considerably less crowded than they had been.

There was some commotion in the other room. Spock turned towards the door, seeking more information for his report to the Captain. The cause of the noise, although not at all surprising, turned out to be Doctor McCoy who was stepping out of the operating suite.

"And don't let him outta that bed until I give the order or, so help me, a punctured lung is gonna be the _least_ of his problems!"

In his endeavors at analyzing human behavior, Spock had become familiar with Doctor McCoy's various outbursts. Privately, he would often gauge the Doctor's temperament on a scale of his own creation- three being the height of outrage, one being general discontent.

This was likely a 2.63.

Spock was directly in the Doctor's path and might very well experience the fallout. He steeled himself for an unpleasant conversation.

"And another thing- has anyone figured out where the Sam Hill M'Benga's at? If he can't- Spock! What the blazes are you doin' down here? Don't tell me you've gone an' done somethin' to get yourself-"

"Negative, Doctor. I have come to assess the situation here, as well as the conditions in Engineering. As the Captain said, I am a runner."

Unexpectedly, McCoy seemed to calm.

"Oh. 'S that all? Well, you can tell Jim that we're still afloat down here. Though, I'd rather we were at Starbase 38. At least we'd have stable conditions for Doctor Gehrke and Scotty. The fool went an' kept working with a punctured lung… He's gonna make a full recovery, due in no small part to yours truly- you remind him that, next time he starts thinking of doin' somethin' idiotic."

Spock remained expressionless. "I will endeavor to do so, Doctor."

Whether it was because of his full workload or general apathy at the moment, McCoy only glared. "Good. Tell Jim 'Hey' for me, will ya?" Without waiting for a response, the Doctor left to tend to the injured. Spock remained, pondering.

Often, the Doctor's emotionalism 'offended his Vulcan sensibilities' as McCoy himself would put it. True, McCoy could be professional when the occasion suited, but often the crew was left to face an irate and cantankerous physician with a 'my way or the highway' outlook on medicine. It was not a confrontation that Spock took much pleasure in. They had a strained professional relationship, yet there was an understanding. Despite their differences, Spock and McCoy always agreed to do the best for the ship, even if they didn't agree what that best was. Spock knew that McCoy had the ship's welfare on his mind. He supposed that was the important thing. _If the Doctor is doing his job satisfactorily, I believe the rest of his behaviors can be tolerated… to an extent._

He had been dismissed. That meant it was time to run back up to the Bridge. Before visiting Sickbay, Spock had run to Decks Fourteen, Thirteen, Eleven, and Ten to check up on ship's systems. As of yet, there was nothing new to report. With Commander Scott temporarily out of commission, the cause of the power failure had not been located.

_This is a development that the Captain needs to be made aware of. _Spock took off for the turbolift. _If he has not already been informed about Scott's condition, then he will find that the information clarifies our difficulties considerably. _The turbolifts were still packed with repair crews. Spock waited out the five other stops before stepping out onto the Bridge.

The sight that met him was not similar to what he had left. The Captain's chair was empty, and the upper level was crowded with redshirts, each performing the required repairs on his and Lieutenant Uhura's consoles. Fewer technicians occupied the lower level. Ensign Chekov was compiling the results of his scans. By appearances, Spock could deduce that he was nearly finished. Lieutenant Sulu was diligently guiding the _Enterprise_ toward Starbase 38.

The most surprising development was the Captain's relocation to the floor in front of the viewscreen. He was ringed in by PADDs, which were scattered aimlessly on the floor around him. Spock caught his eye and the Captain motioned him over.

"If it isn't my runner, returned at last! 'The faithful ambassador is health', so they say. What've you got for me, Spock?"

Spock stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back. He noticed the change in his Captain's mood and wondered if it had anything to do with his array of PADDs. _Perhaps others have been bringing in reports as well,_ He considered, _If so, much of my report may be redundant. However, it is useless to hypothesize without data. I will disclose fully my findings. _

"Captain, here is my report. From Engineering, no cause for the power failure has yet been established. Lieutenants DeSalle and Kyle have called for secondary scans throughout the dilithium control station and Engineering Support. Sickbay reports thirty-six casualties, two of which are surgery cases, and possible injuries yet unaccounted for. One of the surgery cases is Commander Scott, who is expected to make a full recovery."

In the middle of Spock's report, Kirk let his PADD sink to his lap. He listened attentively, letting Spock complete his statement before posing questions.

"What happened to Scotty, that is, if you know the details…?"

"I believe he sustained a shrapnel injury that resulted in a punctured lung. Mister Scott continued to perform his duties until he collapsed in Engineering."

Kirk frowned and let out a breath. "He shouldn't do that."

Spock inclined his head. "I believe Doctor McCoy expressed the same sentiment, although he expressed it using more lengthy and colorful language."

"I bet he did." Kirk snorted. "What else from Bones? Did he say anything about Doctor Gehrke?"

Spock thought for a moment, trying to recall anything he might have heard on the subject of the linguist. "I have not received an update to Doctor Gehrke's condition. Doctor McCoy also instructed me to 'say "Hey" to you'. This was his only report."

Kirk chuckled, although Spock did not find McCoy's colloquialisms very amusing. The Captain smiled and gestured for Spock to join him on the floor.

"We've got some reports to sort through. You haven't been the only one running around the ship delivering news. That stack over there is Engineering updates," He indicated a loose assortment of PADDs to his left, near Spock's knee. "And these here are from the lower decks, shuttlebay, and the cargo bay. That over there is the lone-wolf Sickbay report. I think it's from Chapel. I doubt Bones is in any mood to write up a report just now."

Spock selected the first PADD off of the Engineering stack. It opened with a report of Commander Scott's injury and subsequent change in command. He had his own opinion about the author of Sickbay's report, having seen Nurse Page punching information into a PADD earlier, but he agreed with his Captain that it certainly wasn't McCoy's. However, most of his attention was focused on the PADD at hand.

Kirk had gone fishing in the stack of lower deck reports, searching for a particular heading. He had a hunch about something, but hadn't seen anything to back it up so far. _Who was it that said 'Intuition is the messenger of opportunity'? If I've got an opportunity to kill this problem at the source, then I'll take it. _He glanced over at his First Officer who was busy pouring over a new Engineering report. _I'm glad I've got Spock on this. He'll pick out the needle in the haystack long before I've tracked down my hunch. _

He dove back into the reports with new energy. Most of them were the same things: power failure, short circuit, and electrical damage. Kirk read on. One of these reports was bound to return something useful. He supposed that while Scotty was out of commission, the rest of the ship sure wasn't. _One man doesn't run a kingdom. Scotty's a genius, but he's got a whole bunch of bright bulbs hanging around, too._ Kirk tried to keep a rein on his frustration. _Any minute now. Any minute. Hello. Deck Fourteen- Unexplained chemical damage to the starboard airlock door. That is highly unusual._

"Spock…" At Kirk's call, the First Officer looked up from his reading.

"Yes, Captain?"

"What did they have to say on Deck Fourteen? Anything interesting?"

Spock considered for a moment. "Not anything unusual, Captain. The crewmen advised me to continue on, as they were having trouble keeping even the emergency lights on in several sections."

Kirk snapped his fingers. "That's it! Deck Fourteen's primarily power and utilities distribution! Here, take a look at this." He passed the PADD over to Spock. It was scanned, analyzed, and retuned in a moment.

"That is highly irregular, Captain. The cause must be investigated at once."

"You're right, Spock." Kirk nodded, mulling the whole mess over in his head. "You're right, but it's going to have to wait. We'll have to park it at Starbase 38 before we can do a thing. Mister Sulu, Mister Chekov!"

Though Kirk was in an undignified position on the floor, both men sat at attention.

"Yes, Captain." Sulu responded.

"Do we have an ETA yet for Starbase 38?"

This time, Chekov answered. "Estimates at six hours until we reach the Starbase, sir."

"Thank you, gentlemen. Carry on." Kirk looked back at his reports. He had a strange expression on his face. Spock, truly not a master of human behavioral patterns, was forced to inquire further.

"Captain?"

"Six hours, Spock." Kirk looked up at him, and Spock could now identify the emotion hiding behind his Captain's mask of calm: unease. Kirk continued, "Six hours, and we'll have our answer. That being said, six hours is an awfully long time on impulse. We could have a whole host of problems pop up. Anything could appear."

"Or any_one_, Captain." Spock added.

"You're right, Spock. Or anyone."

**A/N: Well, well, well... Gee, I hope they make it. Tell me what you think! I'd love to hear anything you have to say!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry this one took so long! I had a major project to do...**

**Anyway, here's where our heroes make their grand appearance. *Fist pumps the air* **

Nurse Chapel kicked her feet up on her boss' desk. McCoy wasn't in, only a patient on the couch who's scratched cornea treatment made him too dizzy to stand. Lieutenant Brazos had a bandage and a cold pack to ease his suffering. _That, _Chapel smirked, _and a double dose of the good stuff. If it'd been anything other than metal shavings, I'd say only one dose but…_

Brazos shifted in his uneasy state. Chapel picked up her coffee off the desk. Captain Kirk wasn't the only one who went through pots of coffee like they were command tunics. Being McCoy's Head Nurse came with as many perks as it did drawbacks, Chapel decided. The stress, she figured, was only increased because they were on the flagship. On the other hand, they were going new places and seeing things they'd never dreamed were possible. She'd come into this job hoping to find her fiancée, but that hadn't panned out. Chapel thought, 'Forget it' and was now sitting pretty with an impressive career.

The coffee was cooling quickly. It'd been hot when she'd come into the office looking for somewhere to set Brazos down. _If McCoy's away,_ She'd thought at the time, _then the patient will stay._ The couch in here was better than the floor outside. McCoy wouldn't mind since he was so far from using it. When she'd stepped out to take five and get the Lieutenant settled, the CMO was buzzing from biobed to biobed like a cantankerous bee. He was taking his time with each patient. Everybody got a once-over courtesy of McCoy or they didn't walk out. Not on his watch.

Chapel was expectedly surprised when the office doors swished open a few minutes later. McCoy entered, carrying a tricorder, but he stopped a few steps in the door. Nurse Chapel hadn't thought to take her feet off the desk, and Lieutenant Brazos couldn't see anything anyhow.

"Hmph." McCoy scowled, snapping his fingers at Chapel's misbehaving boots. She sighed, dropping her feet to the floor. "Least you could'a done was told me you'd been movin' patients in here," her boss drawled as he rounded the desk, "Then I'd'a taken my coffee break somewhere quiet, like the left nacelle." He reached for the bottom drawer, the one Chapel knew housed the hard stuff. She placed a delicate toe on the handle, stopping any attempts at pre-landing debauchery.

"Nuh-uh, sir." Chapel gave him a wry look. "We're landing in about three hours. Can't have you three sheets to the wind when we'll have a patient to transport."

The CMO directed an exasperated grunt at his Head Nurse. "Chapel, I don't know whether you're gonna be the death of me, or my savin' grace." His eyes drifted back up to the desktop. "Is that… coffee, Nurse?"

Chapel could see the sudden shift in her boss' body language. His shoulders straightened, his eyes brightened; essentially his whole being lit up at the prospect of coffee. If that wasn't a testament to his mood, Chapel didn't know what was.

"There was a fresh pot about fifteen minutes ago, as far as I know. I don't know how many of ours have taken advantage. I've been in here getting the Lieutenant settled and taking my ten." Somewhere in the middle of her speech, McCoy stopped listening. He stood back up, eyes glazed but directed at the doorway.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Good work, Nurse. I'll be… getting back to it then…" McCoy took normal steps all the way to the door, but Chapel caught the tail-end of his hustle before he disappeared completely. She sighed and sipped at the last of her own pick-me-up. There were still several reports to file: the broken femur, two concussions, and the write up for both Commander Scott's and Doctor Gehrke's surgeries as she had attended somewhat to both. Resigned to her task, she knocked back the remaining coffee and vacated McCoy's office.

PADD in hand, Chapel made a round of the Sickbay to make sure everything was in order. All remaining patients had been assigned to a biobed, and the rest of the temporary cases were being assisted on gurneys. The Head Nurse stopped by every conscious patient to talk. She also checked the vitals of everybody still out. After the main floor had been scrutinized, she moved to the back rooms. She knew she'd find only two patients back there: Doctor Gehrke and Commander Scott.

Although the back rooms hosted six biobeds each, this one was only utilized for recovering surgery and/or transfusion patients. The risks associated with infection were too high to mix in any additional patients from the main ward, regardless of how desperate Sickbay was for space. If there were any surgery patients, they'd get the room to themselves, guaranteed.

She found it just as she'd expected. Almost. Chapel walked into the room, looking up to see one nurse, two patients, and-

"Nyota!"

"Chris!" The Communications Officer stood as Chapel approached. "I thought you'd be too busy out there. Is anything wrong?"

"No, Nyota. I was just doing a round. I didn't expect to see you here, though. Did McCoy send you in?"

Uhura nodded, gesturing with one hand at the unconscious linguist. "I'm here to keep an eye on Doctor Gehrke, or more like keep an ear on him. Doctor McCoy wants to know if he says anything in any language other than Standard. If he has any problems and expresses them in German…" She shrugged. "I guess I'll have to let you know."

Chapel saw the logic in this, but noticed something else. "So, you're all alone in here, with Commander Scott sedated, Doctor Gehrke unconscious, and Domanova MIA?"

Uhura gave her a small smile. "Ensign Domanova isn't missing, he's been 'relocated' to the hallway. Couldn't take all the tension of surgery, I suppose. But, it's not so bad since I brought my PADD with me from the Bridge. I've finished all of my reports, though. It's been a little slow for the past half-hour."

The Head Nurse nodded, taking inventory of the room. The other nurse had come and gone, leaving the two of them with the surgery patients. Until McCoy said otherwise, which could be any length of time considering how scatterbrained he'd been earlier, Uhura was stuck in here at Gehrke's side. _That's not quite fair, _Chapel considered, _Even though it makes sense. Having Nyota in here is the best idea Len's had all day. Keeping her in here with nothing to do but listen to Scott's wheezing… Well, everyone's essentially been taken care of. It won't hurt if I make additional notes on the surgeries…_

"Tell you what, Nyota," Chapel started, "I have to make notes for each patient regarding their care and progress. Seeing as how these two surgeries were trickier than your average scraped elbow, I suppose it would be a good idea to watch them a little more closely. What do you think?"

Uhura smiled, eyes twinkling at Nurse Chapel's thinly veiled excuse to sit around for a while. "I think you're onto something, Nurse."

Chapel grinned back and pulled up a chair between Gehrke and Scott's beds. She finished the last sentence of general patient notes and opened the file on Commander Scott. McCoy had written up a general description of the injury and subsequent surgery as impartially as he had been able to. She could sense his frustration behind the mentions of 'delayed treatment', 'negligence', and a particularly salty 'disregard for basic safety protocol'. _Boy, is Scotty going to be in for it when he wakes up._

"So, Chris," Uhura began, "What do you think about all of this? We don't know who fired on the ship. I was on the Bridge when it happened and let me tell you: that ship was unlike anything I've ever seen! You remember the Demerons?"

"The same Demerons who thought they'd be able to take you, me, and Palmer in hand-to-hand?"

"The same."

"Well, what about those idiots? I don't see how that tin can full of half-developed sea cucumbers compares to the ship that could disable the _Enterprise _in a matter of minutes."

"Seconds, Chris." Uhura corrected. "True, the Demerons were collectively as bright as a black hole. I didn't mean they were similar like that. I just remembered the static I was able to pick up before my console started sparking and Gehrke…" She paused, sparing a glance at the linguist. "It was almost like the Demerons' first message- the one before we ran their language through the Universal Translator. Only, we know the Demerons communicate through various wave frequencies kind of like music. This ship had a… Well, there was something about it that struck me as familiar."

Chapel set her PADD down. "Any idea what it was?"

"No, none." Uhura shook her head. "I just can't place it. It's pretty frustrating, Chris."

"Well," Chapel kicked her feet up on the hard edge of Scotty's biobed. Nobody could tell her no. "Since your console's blown and McCoy probably won't come back around for another half-hour at least, by my estimate… How about you tell me about it? I don't know much about wave frequencies, but I could probably be a decent sounding board." She smiled. "I can nod my head and make encouraging noises at least."

The offer broke Uhura's melancholy mood. "That's a wonderful idea, Chris. Even if we can't figure it out, I'll at least have the chance to organize some of my ideas." The Communications Officer smiled. "Who knows? We might make a breakthrough."

"I'm all ears, Nyota. Tell me about this frequency."

Uhura settled back and crossed her arms. "It's not a frequency how you would normally think of it. It was a… It was like a textured buzzing sound, if you get my meaning. There were several sounds, some repeating in a pattern. Most of these were vibrations."

"What kind of vibrations? Like different pitches?"

"Yes, that, but something else too. There were some of the same pitches that sounded different. It's that texture. I can't explain it. The sound wasn't the same as some of the others and I don't know why."

Chapel pushed off of Scotty's bedside with her heels. Uhura was onto something. She could just tell. _That's what I love about Nyota. She doesn't give up easily, if ever. I'd bet money that she could crack this, given enough time and maybe some more data. Is there any more? I wonder what the computers could record before everything got fried._ She put her question to words. That got Uhura thinking some more.

"I don't know. If the computer recorded something useful, we'd still have to wait until the repairs are finished. I know Chekov did a level 2 scan on the ship. Maybe with his reports and the rest of the data from the computers, we can put something together."

"Sounds like a plan." Chapel dropped her feet to the floor. She'd heard footsteps outside and decided it was about time that she got to work. _Or at least, pretend like I'm working. Maybe work a little. I still have to finish both Gehrke and Scotty's preliminaries. _She retrieved her PADD and got up to check Scotty's vitals. Uhura responded to Chapel's action and made to look natural for their visitor. She began skimming lines of nothing on her own PADD just as Doctor McCoy graced them with his presence.

The Doctor looked much less miserable than before. He had the appearance of a man who had just finished his coffee- one, maybe two cups. There was a significant spring in his step as he made his way to Doctor Gehrke's bedside. He even went so far as to smile at Uhura as he stopped to check on the linguist.

"Any word?"

Uhura shook her head. "No, Doctor. He's completely out and hasn't shown any signs of waking."

McCoy pursed his lips and bobbed back on his heels. "That's to be expected, I guess. Gehrke's probably aiming to get his money's worth outta those sedatives. I'd want to stay out too if I had shrapnel wounds that made me look like Swiss cheese." He stepped closer to the bedside, leaning in to get a look at Gehrke's healing neck wound. "Dermal regenerator seems to have done its job. He'll be back with us later this afternoon. I suspect Starbase 38 will want us to transfer him over straight away." McCoy straightened up and addressed Nurse Chapel. "How's our problem case, Nurse?"

Chapel fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You can chew him out when he wakes up. I don't know why you and M'Benga agreed on such a heavy dose in the first place. What're you trying to do, prolong his stay by any means necessary?"

"Now see here! I'm a doctor, not a warden. I'll keep Scotty here until he's recovered to my satisfaction, then I'll turn him loose with a warning strong enough to be heeded from here to Vulcan! Besides, a little extra rest never hurt anybody."

Uhura buried her nose in her PADD to keep from laughing. McCoy had a reputation for keeping his patients until the last possible second. He'd always go for the maximum prescription that medical override would allow, even going so far as trying to wrestle one James T Kirk back into a biobed. Of course, no one talked about how poorly that had gone in front of the Captain. Most of the crew held the opinion that McCoy was more than a little vengeful, and that he'd keep patients on longer if they ticked him off. Uhura had a different opinion.

The Doctor McCoy she knew fussed over his patients for an entirely different reason. He was a physician with a bleeding heart. She knew that McCoy cared deeply for everyone in his Sickbay, from the Captain to the lowest yeoman. Part of his hostage-taking tendency came from the desire to ensure that, yes; the patient in question was fully recovered. Through her conversations with Chapel and her own personal experience, she figured that there was another reason behind McCoy's unwillingness to let them go. The Doctor was always the loudest opponent to dangerous away missions, high-risk plans, and hazardous maneuvers. Uhura supposed McCoy, in his own way, was trying to protect his recently injured. After all, if they were stuck in Sickbay, what trouble could they possibly get into?

McCoy was moving around again. He decided that he'd check in on Scotty himself while Chapel went to file her report. Uhura decided she'd do some research into alien speech that involved simple vibration as primary means of communication. She knew her way around the dynamics of vocal chords just fine, but this was an altogether different thing. There was something intriguing about this new sound, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Uhura was just settling back down into her chair when she heard something unexpected.

"You idiot."

She kept typing away, pretending she hadn't heard. Likely, McCoy hadn't realized he'd said anything aloud. He was adjusting the monitors on Scotty's biobed. At some point, the same train of through must have come back around. _He can't get over this_, Uhura realized as she put energy into her act, _and he won't stop worrying until Scotty wakes up. _

The Doctor was idling, now, and Uhura decided she'd had enough of his worrying.

"Doctor McCoy?"

His head snapped up. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

She put on an easy smile. "Nothing much, sir, I was just wondering if there was anything you'd like for me to do. I won't have much on my plate until my console on the Bridge is repaired. If there's anything I can help you do, I'd love to lend a hand."

She watched as some of the tension seeped out of McCoy's shoulders. _Good. Play your cards right, Nyota, and you'll have him back to his chipper, post-coffee self in no time. _

"I don't have much, to be honest." McCoy shifted his weight and gave his attention back to the biobeds. Uhura thought she was going to lose him, when he looked over again. "I would appreciate it if you could stay here and keep an eye on Doctor Gehrke. I know it gets awful lonely back here… Tell you what. How's about I go grab a couple of PADDs from my office and I'll sit in with you. That way, if Gehrke does have any complications, we'll have somebody to translate and somebody to operate." A smile creased his face at the small joke. Uhura couldn't help but chuckle.

"That sounds just fine, Doctor. I'll let you know if anything happens before you get back." McCoy nodded and started for the door. "Oh, and Doctor?" He turned, raising an eyebrow. Uhura grinned. "How about a cup of coffee? One for each of us, maybe?" The Doctor nodded slightly and left. She sat back and sighed. Not exactly the result she'd hoped for, but at least it'd pulled McCoy from his fog. _I guess that confirms something else, too. I'll be here with Gehrke for the remainder of his stay. Doctor McCoy seemed firm on that, if nothing else. _

She thought about kicking her feet up on the bedside as Chapel had, but decided against it. Coffee with McCoy wasn't so bad. Uhura could think of quite a few places that would be worse.

Captain Kirk's command center remained on the floor. _Honestly,_ he thought, _It's the most efficient way. Each runner can come and deliver their reports to an accessible, out of the way space with ease. Nobody stalls the repair work on the upper level, and I can organize all of this information to my liking. _

He took another PADD from the Engineering runner. This one was delivering reports from the lower decks. According to these, the flooding in the cargo bays had been nearly contained and the crewmen trapped in the Rec rooms had been released. _Things are finally looking up, _Kirk supposed, _with the extra people from the Rec rooms back on duty, we might be able to get things back up and running. _

He glanced to his left, where his First Officer and Navigator were pouring over the scan results. Ensign Chekov watched the data over Spock's shoulder and interjected relevant details whenever necessary. Spock would nod once, or make his own observations. This had been going on for a little while. Kirk supposed that the data must require a good deal of shifting through, or else, they'd have reported something. _Any minute now, they'll have something. The answer's right there in Spock's hands. _

He thought back to the battle. True, the ship had been completely alien, but there had to be something from the scan they could use. _It used technology that was completely unfamiliar._ Kirk pondered the design, _A sphere suspended in what appeared to be some type of arc-generator. From the brief look we did get of them, even I could tell that they operated within a sort of electrical field. Maybe there's another connection, and we're going about this all wrong. _He decided that he'd contact Deck Fourteen about the power loss. As internal communications were still offline…

Kirk stretched his back. They'd been here on the floor while waiting for everything to settle down on the upper level. It had been too long.

"Spock."

Both his First Officer and Navigator looked up.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I'm going down to Deck Fourteen. I've got a hunch and I'd like to check it out."

Chekov's brow creased. "Deck Fourteen, sir? Most, if not all, of the power is out on that deck. You wouldn't be able to 'check' much out in those conditions."

Kirk stood. He surveyed the Bridge, dimly illuminated by the emergency lights. "I'll be about as helpful as I am up here. There's something else going on, and I'm going to find out what." With that, he nodded and made for the turbolift. The hustle and bustle had slowed a bit, but the Bridge was by no means at peace. _Neither am I, _Kirk reflected,_ not until I can solve this mystery. _

"Deck Fourteen."

The ride was eerie, as he made it alone. The turbolift rotation in this crisis had consisted of crews from below going above, not so much vice-versa. In addition to the pattern of movement, many of the crews needed to fix the ship had already been deployed. He supposed nearly everyone who would work today was already working.

On his arrival, Kirk discovered several things. First off: he found he would never complain about the emergency lights ever again. It was pitch dark on Deck Fourteen. Only the glow from the turbolift provided any illumination, and that minimally.

There was a spark somewhere up ahead. For an instant, Kirk could see the kind of damage that had been done. The corridor seemed darker than it should be, with wiring peeking out from charred holes in the walls. There was some sort of fluid pooled in spots on the floor. The spark jumped again, and Kirk charted a path around the puddles.

He took a step into the dark. There weren't many sounds down here, and he kept his eyes on the floor. One wrong step could, in theory, get him electrocuted. He wasn't about to take that chance. Utilities Distribution was in the middle of the deck. That's where his feet were trying to take him.

Luckily for the Captain, his crew didn't take a day off, pitch darkness or no. A literal light appeared the end of this murky tunnel. Kirk recognized the emergency beam from a tricorder and waved at the approaching crewman.

"Captain?"

Kirk blinked against the growing beam and the crewman lowered the tricorder quickly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Can't see too far down here."

The Captain squinted in the low lighting. He still couldn't make out the figure behind the tricorder beyond an Ensign's stripes on a red shirt. Best take this shot in the dark.

"I understand completely, Ensign…?" He put a hand to his face to help make his point. The tricorder dropped further.

"Ensign Watrous reporting, sir. Do you have any new orders? Things have been pretty rough since Commander Scott left…"

Kirk tried to put the Ensign at ease with a grin. "As a matter of fact, I came down to see things for myself. We're not far off from Starbase 38, but when you have a hunch…Well, why don't you show me what's wrong with the power, or at least, as close as you've been able to discover?"

Watrous nodded and gestured with the tricorder. "Yes sir, right away sir. If you'll follow me please." The Ensign started off down the hallway. "The main problem is in Utilities distribution. We've located the source of the trouble, but we can't get to it. There's a whole area on the hull that's almost… Well, it's charred, sir. It's burnt and covered in some sort of fluid. Just between you and me, I've been calling it 'The Goo', but that's hardly report-ready material."

Kirk found himself grinning at the Ensign's easy manner- professional, yet open and friendly. _Watrous seems to be the optimist, _Kirk mused, _calm in a crisis and clear-headed._ They continued down the corridor for a little longer, Watrous pointing out potential pitfalls with the tricorder, and Kirk trying to follow close behind.

Eventually, the pair came to Utilities Distribution. The light from the tricorder told Kirk everything he needed to know, and his gut confirmed it. _This is the place, _he realized.

"Here's the main problem, as far as I can tell." Watrous began, "I've been working on my own in this area, since the others assigned to this deck have either been injured, called up for repair work, or are holed up on the central assembly trying to keep Sickbay and the turbolifts online."

Kirk followed along, but soon found his thoughts wandering. He studied the bulkhead in question. True to Watrous' word, a large portion of the wall had been blackened. Kirk pondered the kind of energy needed to make such a large and distinctive burn. The charred metal was rippled slightly, with shining spots clustered toward the epicenter of the burn. From Kirk's perspective, the damage seemed electrical in nature, looking very much like the black spread on a blown fuse. _Only, this is gigantic in scale. What could have caused damage like this? It would take a tremendous surge of electrical energy-_

It clicked.

"Ensign!" Kirk grabbed Watrous' arm and spun the engineer to face him. "I know what caused this! The ship- the other ship, the one that attacked us- had some sort of… arc that shot bursts of electrical energy to and from the main body of the ship. When they fired on us, whatever they fired must have had the same sort of power… It makes sense to say that if their ship is run on this peculiar type of energy, then so are their weapons. If they have a higher mastery of electricity, then there's no telling what kind of havoc they could wreak on a ship's systems- on a ship's _power systems!"_

Watrous' jaw dropped, mouth forming a perfect 'O'. "Captain, that's brilliant! Of course… Of course!" The Ensign detached from Kirk's grip. The tricorder was up and whirring over the surface of the burn. "I'd never thought to analyze it that way. Usually, weapons damage falls into either the 'phaser' or 'torpedo' category… Nobody down here saw that ship, so it stands to reason why we hadn't made the connection until now. All the same, Captain, I feel pretty foolish for not having recognized it earlier."

Kirk grinned. He was elated, both that they had discovered the culprit, and that they had somewhere to work from. "No reason to feel bad, Ensign. I had to come down and see the damage for myself before I put two and two together. Anyway, we've got something to go off of now. What are your readings like now?"

The tricorder bobbed, and Kirk could see the outline of Watrous' face in the low light. The Ensign studied the readings for a moment, and then frowned. _Oh no. _Kirk waited for the news. _I have a feeling it won't be good._

"Captain… I… There's a _perforation in the hull_. Something else, too, it looks like the goo is coating the outside of this bulkhead. Captain, the holes are-"

Watrous didn't have time to finish. Kirk grabbed the Ensign's arm and began racing back toward the turbolifts. He stopped at the nearest wall comm and tried to open a ship wide channel. When the comm didn't so much as produce static, he remembered.

"No! Not now!" Kirk whirled. "Ensign! Get yourself to Sickbay on the double! Report to Doctor McCoy. That's an order."

"S-sickbay?" Watrous noted the look in Kirk's eyes. There would be no argument. "Yes sir. Right away, sir."

The Ensign began running for the turbolift. Kirk had a job to do. With communications still down, he would have to manually evacuate the deck. The sprint down the corridor was difficult in the dark. He hadn't thought to take the tricorder from Watrous before sending the Ensign to Sickbay. It didn't matter much, now. He had to clear the deck.

Whatever weapon had made the electrical burn on the bulkhead had also deposited a fair amount of 'That Goo' on the outer side of the hull. In addition, the burn had been deep enough to actually put holes in the metal. This goo had apparently maintained a pressure seal, but Kirk didn't trust it with an inch. He didn't know how long the seal would hold, or if the goo had any other dangerous properties. As soon as he'd cleared Deck Fourteen, he'd send a runner to Main Engineering. They'd get Fourteen sealed off and issue a quarantine. No one would go in, or anywhere near, the area of damage without at least an EV suit.

The Captain arrived at the central assembly. There were about fifteen crewmen there, all working by tricorder-light.

"Attention!" Kirk shouted. To their credit, all of the crewmen responded immediately. Once they'd settled, Kirk continued. "We need to evacuate this deck. Is anyone else, other than Ensign Watrous who has already been evacuated, working on this deck?"

A lieutenant piped up. "No, sir! We're the only ones on this deck."

"And you're sure, lieutenant?"

"Absolutely, sir. I made the round myself not ten minutes ago."

Kirk nodded. "Good. We're getting out of here right away. There's significant hull damage here and I'm ordering everyone out. Make for the turbolifts- don't stop."

At once, the whole of the central assembly crew formed up and filed out. Kirk took up the rear, making sure no one was lost in the rush. None of the engineers met with trouble in the corridor, and they all arrived at the turbolift safely.

"Alright," Kirk began. "Eight of you go now, the rest will come in the next lift with me. Report to Sickbay. Hop to it."

Eight crewmen broke off and entered the turbolift. Kirk boarded with the next group, taking his party all the way up to Deck Seven.

"Here we are." He called over his shoulder as he exited. "If you'll all come with me. You may need to get checked out, just to be safe. Ensign Watrous discovered an alien substance that could be dangerous…"

They followed along as a group. Kirk led the party to Sickbay, expecting crowded spaces and silence. Sure, the main ward was packed with recovering crewmen, but he could hear raised voices coming from one of the back rooms.

Nurse Chapel appeared on the other end of the Sickbay. She had equipment in her hands and no time to stop and chat. Ensign Domanova, Gehrke's assistant, followed close behind the Head Nurse. Spock brought up the rear.

"Spock!" Kirk called, jogging to intercept his First Officer. "What's going on down here?"

"Captain." Spock stood at attention. "We have arrived at Starbase 38. Mister Sulu is preparing the orbit as we speak. I made the journey down to Sickbay to inform Doctor McCoy of this event and discovered this state of crisis."

"We're there already?" Kirk asked, amazed. "That's great news! But what's going on down here? What's all that shouting?"

Spock glanced at the closed doors to the recovery room. "I do not know, yet, but I believe the answer lies in the recovery ward."

"Good thinking, Spock. Let's go see for ourselves."

What they found in the recovery ward wasn't reassuring. Something was happening to Doctor Gehrke. The linguist was convulsing, and from the looks of things, it wasn't going to go smoothly. Doctor McCoy was biting his tongue, likely to keep from swearing a blue streak. He was concentrating on keeping his patient still while simultaneously preparing a hypospray. The Doctor looked up as Chapel came running in again. He made eye contact with Kirk.

"Jim!" McCoy shouted. "I've got my hands full here! We've got to get him to the Starbase, quick! The lights've started flickerin' in here and we need a reliable source of power to keep Gehrke stabilized!"

"Good thing we just arrived, Bones. Get him on a gurney and we can transport over."

"But Jim! Communications are down! How'll we let the Starbase know we're plannin' on transportin'?"

Doctor McCoy raised a good point. They hadn't brought the communications back up just yet, and might not be able to for some time. Starbase 38 wouldn't lower their shields for transport unless they knew exactly who and/or what was getting beamed down.

"I guess we'll have to load a shuttle. Get you and yours ready, Bones. Spock, meet us in the Shuttlebay with that Security Team. I'll get the shuttle prepped for takeoff."

McCoy nodded at the Captain and started giving his own orders. "Chapel, get the gurney. Uhura, you're coming with us. Sorry about all this shufflin' about, darlin'. If there was any other way…"

Uhura, aware of how delicate the situation was, simply nodded and stood alongside the biobed.

"Great." McCoy finished. "Alright, everyone. Gurney's here. Domanova, give me a hand."

They transferred Gehrke to the gurney without much trouble. Now, for the hard part. It would be a dead sprint from Sickbay to the turbolift, the turbolift to the shuttle, and then… McCoy only hoped that they'd be able to keep Gehrke stable. It would be one heck of a ride.

**A/N: Starbase 38 at last! But, what will happen to the ship? Will Uhura find her solution? Is McCoy going to overdose on caffeine?! Find out next time on Leave It To Us!**

**Thanks for reading.**


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